


Some Things Only We Know

by annieke



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, Mild Kink, Porn, We never did this before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-05 23:32:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annieke/pseuds/annieke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's the little things that matter most. Danny gets this.<br/>Danny and Steve get porny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things Only We Know

**Author's Note:**

> Mildy kinky; I don't think it's crazy kinky. You may, I don't know. It's sure not something I thought I'd write, but Danny kind of pushed for it, so, yeah. Bits of lace, silk. leather. Mild bondage. Lots of fun, I'm hoping.
> 
> Many thanks to iam_space for the beta when she was on already on a beta roll. Much appreciated.

Sometimes, it's the little things.

Like that time when he and Rachel were first married and he'd surprised her with her favorite perfume for no particular reason. Or that time she'd been in the city and brought home pastrami take-out from Katz's, and then let him eat the entire ridiculously huge sandwich in front of the tube while watching the Devils and Rangers high stick and check each other into the boards without uttering word one about cholesterol or heart congestion or rising testosterone levels during hockey season.

So he gets it. Gets that the little things count. Gets that knowing what the little things are is important. Appreciated. This, though--how this has happened to be _the_ little thing, he's not even sure.

Strike that. He knows how, it's the why that's getting him. Why he's fixating on this. Why he's letting that fixation get to this point. 

Jesus, he must be even more insane than his clearly insane partner.

And strike that, too. Not just partner, not in this. Not with this little thing, oh no. It's lover. Lover. His crazy--sometimes completely certifiable--lover. Seriously, no one can match the insanity that is embedded there; the man's levels have levels.

And this--this is a high-in-the-sky level, the idea of which has been sending shivers down his back pretty much since he thought, acknowledged, and decided to do something about it.

His nerves are all but thrumming, he actually feels himself tremble. Looks at his hands expecting to see tremors and wonders at the lightheaded feeling, as though all his blood has left the building--

More like all his sanity, given what's going on now. What he's decided to do. What he is doing. Jeeze, the things he actually finds himself doing for McGarrett. 

"May I help you?"

The voice at his back makes him stiffen, and he takes a deep breath before turning to meet the saleswoman, hoping beyond hope that the flush racing up to his hairline isn't actually as horrendously noticeable as he’s pretty damn sure it is. "Uh, I'm, ah--I'm not exactly--"

She's pointing somewhere behind him. "Oh, well, there are some new items that just came in this week. They're all up front. We also have several things on sale, if you're interested. Anything in particular you're looking for?"

She's older than him by several years and attractive and trying to be oh, so helpful--and something about her smile suddenly reminds him of his mother which just about sends him running out of the store in search of the nearest bar. She's looking at him with eyes that he's sure will be reading between the lines the instant he opens his mouth.

God, he can't do this. Can. Not.

Another sales woman walks by and she's drop dead gorgeous. Young, tall, with long, thick hair pulled into a sleek ponytail and his eyes can't miss the swell of breasts pushing up and pretty much out of her low-cut dress. She smiles a red lipsticked smile at him as she passes--and okay. That's it. Now he's sure he can't do this.

Just, no.

Except--

Steve had on those gloves a few days ago. Those black leather ones with the finger hole cut out that about send him over the edge whenever he even sees them. Whenever he sees Steve wearing them.

It's the leather. Okay? It's just--something about the way it feels, the way it looks, gleaming with rich luster and the earthy scent--good Christ, that scent. Chin in his leather jacket about did him in the first time he saw him wearing it--

And he's sure his thing for it mostly stems from losing his virginity the second time. The first was with Allison Marks when he was fifteen; the second seven months later with her older brother Kyle, who was definitely the more attractive of the two. Kyle'd had his own car with rich black leather seats that gloriously stuck to his ass as Kyle not only blew him right there on all that rich suppleness, but followed that up by fucking him with his nose pressed into the back seat, breathing in all that glorious scent.

So yeah, leather. Leather will do it for him every time.

Just the thought of Steve and leather. Steve and those gloves. Those gloves. Those fucking gloves.

He can picture him from earlier: Steve in his black Kevlar, pulling on those gloves, working his fingers between their valleys as the leather stretches tautly over his tanned skin. Using his teeth to help pull the gloves on as he was doling out instructions to the team. Rippling his fingers, working the leather over each individual digit, and then pulling it tight until it smoothed into place. He wanted to thrust his tongue between Steve's gloved fingers, taste the leather as he breathed it and Steve's combined aroma.

It was all he could do to concentrate on the scene at hand, focus on bringing down the total nut job who was holding his neighbors hostage over some property rights dispute, not be sidetracked by his new lover and his amazing leather-clad hands.

In the end, they got everyone to safety, the wacko behind bars and awaiting a psych eval, and no one was injured--not even Steve, miraculously--but then Steve went and left them on.

The gloves.

Rubbed his neck while wearing them, the side of his face. Traced over his skin as he gave a quick debrief to HPD about the take down, lightly stroking his forearms as he spoke.

Wrapped each gloved hand around a tattooed bicep, fingers lazily playing over the ink there as he seemed to massage the leather into his muscles. At one point he even traced his gloved middle finger along his bottom lip, his tongue peeking out for just that fraction of a second and it looked liked he'd licked the leather--

Danny could hardly stand it. Could hardly breathe, yet couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Not with half the HPD there and his team and news people and cameras--

And Steve didn't know of his leather fixation, he was pretty sure. Fairly sure.

Hell, he wasn't sure at all, the fucking fucker. This thing they had going on was so new, bright, shiny and hot that they hadn't yet discovered all the likes and dislikes of one another. (It was occurring to him that Steve might not even have any dislikes the way he jumped with gusto into every little thing they did to one another.)

He wasn't at all convinced that Steve didn't know, or hadn't guessed, anyway, about his thing for leather, and hadn't been doing all that playing around with the gloves just to tease the shit out of him.

So he'd tried his best to ignore the heat pooling in his groin and did not, would not, give Steve the satisfaction of seeing him get to him because the last thing he needed was to be standing there in front of Hawaii's finest with a raging erection tenting the front of his khakis.

Then Steve came up behind him and rested a gloved hand on his shoulder, brushing the slightest touch of his thumb across the sensitive skin of Danny's neck. Danny could feel the weight of that gloved hand, the smooth, supple surface. Smell the leather. He was on fire. 

It was ridiculous--they were at a crime scene and there he had been, fighting getting a hard-on from a glove.

He'd walked toward the car then, away from Steve--away from those goddamned gloves.

Oh, Steve had to know. So had to know, the tease.

Which was why Danny was here now. A little payback. For Steve.

Who definitely has his own favorite likes, so yeah--it's those little things that need to be noticed.

It happened on more than one occasion, him noticing Steve noticing. 

The first time Danny hadn't realized what was up. They'd been out to grab something for lunch, and when Steve hadn't answered about his food order, Danny had turned to find him staring fairly openly at a very pretty young woman. He had no right to call Steve out on it; not like anything was going on between the two of them--not yet, anyway, that would come later--and she was very attractive.

So that first time, watching Steve watch that woman. More than a glance and Danny had watched her looking around like she was looking for someone, and then she’d bent down, squatted down for some reason and Steve's eyes had become totally fixed.

Okay, Danny had thought then, watching Steve. Okay, yes. She was very pretty. Young. Blonde. Nice body. Okay, he got that. Now move on. He wanted to tell Steve to move on, enough was enough, but Steve hadn't and it wasn't really like Danny had any right to say anything. So he'd suffered through watching Steve brazenly stare at the woman’s back and ass as she was half squatting, enough to have Danny wonder if Steve was going to go over there and introduce himself and yes, he can admit that his heart sank a little at the thought.

Then the woman's arms stretched wide and a little boy of about three came running into them, the joy-filled, "Mommy," all but rising up with visible hearts-a-flying. When the husband came over to plant one on the pretty woman's mouth, well--

Steve had turned away then, and Danny was rejoicing. Inwardly, of course, but rejoicing nonetheless. And okay, maybe he felt a bit sorry for Steve. Didn’t know why, exactly, but thinking this was one of the first times he'd seen Steve look like he actually longed for something and clearly couldn’t have it. Again.

But _she_ hadn't been quite the thing, oh no. Not that he'd figured it out at the time, or the next few after that. Oh, yeah, it had taken a bit of close watching, figuring, contemplating…but then, he got it. Oh, he so got it. Nailed.

"Sir?"

"Oh, yeah. Here." He hands over his credit card, and is almost jumping out of his skin he wants out of there so badly. The saleswoman is still smiling at him in that way that's so similar to his mom it makes his skin almost crawl, and then she's wrapping up his purchase in tissue, slowly. Painfully slowly, and for the love of God, get a move on, he just wants to scream at her. He's sure she's dragging this out on purpose.

When she finally hands him the little shopping bag, it's all he can do to rein in the urge to snatch it from her hands and run screaming from the place.

She's still smiling at him as he thanks her and accepts the bag, turning to leave.

"You enjoy that purchase now," she says as he's leaving, and he's sure he can actually hear her grinning. 

He half-waves a hand but doesn't turn around.

**

For all of that night he leaves the bag sitting there on the table, untouched. Can't even.

In the morning as he's getting ready for work, he does finally stick his hand in there, fingers brushing over the tissue paper and then pulling away as if it burns.

Okay. Okay. He'll deal with this later. Much.

By the end of the day, he and the team are all wiped. The stifling heat of the day alone would have been enough to suck the energy out of them if the case they were working hadn't turned into one ridiculously long car and then foot chase of a few gun runners. Fortunately, federal agents from the ATF showed up and they got to turn most of their day's problems over to them.

And while having to hand over the case and perps seemed to piss Steve right into a blacker than black mood complete with thunderous looks to anyone daring to glance his way, Danny couldn’t help feeling more relieved than not that the Feds flashed their shiny badges, took over, and wrapped up the rest of the case for them. Made his filling out paperwork a whole lot easier and definitely faster to complete.

Now, the ache between his shoulder blades has lessened in the pain aspect, but grown horribly into an itch that he just can't reach to scratch.

Steve is all but barricaded in his office on a conference call with the governor and several other government-ABC-agency higher-ups, all clamoring for the right to speak first while carrying the biggest agendas. Steve clearly has them on speakerphone as multiple voices can be heard through the walls, and Danny feels for his partner having to deal with all the bureaucracy bullshit. He also silently thanks all the gods he's ever heard of that he isn't the grand kahuna in charge.

So while Steve is in his office swimming with the sharks, Danny, Kono, and Chin settle into Danny's office. He's just finished typing the last of the reports and clicked enter to send them to Steve who'll then pass them off to the Federal Agent Big Cheese in Charge. He couldn’t be happier to see the end to this day.

"So, beers?" Kono is asking now that they've all taken deep breaths and finally relaxed.

"You know it," Chin replies, feet kicked up on Danny's desk and his eyes closed as he leans back in his chair. "Here? or--"

"You could all come to my place," Danny suggests, frowning again at the immediate groans of disapproval by his colleagues. "You know," he tells them, "reactions like that won't get any of you future invitations."

"For which we're eternally grateful," Steve says from the doorway, and all heads turn. "We can barely all fit in the place as it is, never mind having to stare at those four dismal walls."

"You. Do not ever expect an invitation. Ever."

To which Steve just smirks, announcing: "Go get cleaned up, all of you. Meet at my place in an hour for some beer and grilling." Which he then follows with a look to Danny that Danny knows is a promise for some after-grilling fun.

And that, Danny decides right then and there, is the start of this little thing.

**

He gets to Steve's somewhat more than an hour later, which isn't that surprising considering it took him twice as long to get ready once he worked up the nerve and got himself under control.

Good Christ, what he’s doing for Steve.

Took him no time to decide that tonight would be the perfect opportunity to present Steve's present--took him at least ten minutes to gather the courage to get it together--

Then burst out laughing when he looked in the mirror.

The good thing was, the color was perfect. He'd purchased three different: black, white--which just no and what the hell had he been thinking anyway?--and blue. Blue, like his eyes and because Steve likes him in blue, this shade particularly.

Thing of it was, his reflection wasn't exactly showing the image he'd had in mind. What he thought Steve might have in mind. So with that thought and another forming that might just melt his brain if he let it linger around too long to fester, he grit his teeth and headed back into the bathroom before he wussed out altogether.

Apparently without his awareness, the insane shit in McGarrett's head has somehow through osmosis morphed into his head.

Now, with a quick push, shift, and adjustment, he sets the beer he brought to Steve's onto the counter and does a quick sweep around the empty kitchen. There are a couple of plates holding dips and things, most of which he does not exactly recognize. He takes up a fistful of chips then heads out the backdoor toward the beach where he can hear voices.

Every step reminds him of just how much shit he does do for his partner; he wasn’t expecting quite this much tender sensitivity.

There are a few more people than he expected, assorted others who look vaguely familiar in a Kono-Chin cousiny way, and he waves a hand in greeting.

"Danny, hey!" Chin says with a grin and raised beer. "Where you been, brah?"

By the semi-glassy look to Chin's eyes, Danny clearly has some beer catching up to do. Christ, it wasn't like he was that late. "Had a little thing to do first," he says and offers a half salute with the beer in his hand. He takes a long pull from the bottle then stuffs several chips in his mouth, barely able to choke them down a second later because, oh, god-- "Ugh, what--these aren't--what's wrong with these?"

A hand reaches around him, and he turns to find Steve stealing the rest of the chips into his own hand. "Taro." Steve's talking and cramming chips in his mouth as if what he's saying makes any sense. "Good."

"Disgusting." Danny wants to spit because Jesus, how can they screw up even potato chips?

"Good, and good for you," Chin explains as he's looking at the chip now in his hand. "Well, okay, at least maybe not as bad for you as potato chips."

"You're all deranged, you do know that? Somehow living here has--has--I think the sun just melts the good taste part of your brain. Mouth. I actually shudder to think what I'll be like in another six months."

"Your mouth tastes good," Steve says softly as his warm hand is suddenly there on Danny's back, and Danny feels every inch of flush that's filling his face. Hopes it's not on display for all to see.

"Get a room," Chin jokes, clearly dispelling that thought.

"Love to," Steve then whispers behind him, and Danny shivers a bit at the feel of soft breaths lightly tickling over his ear. Marvels at just how quickly Steve is able to charge him up just by breathing. Hands knead the muscles of his shoulders and he stretches his neck in response. Feels so damned good.

"Don't stop," he softly pleads thinking Chin really isn't so far off the mark about them needing to get a room.

Steve stops.

Which, just-- "What did I just say? Did I not just tell you not to stop and what did you do? You stopped. Why--why'd you stop?" Not that they weren't pretty handsy with each other even before they started this, whatever this thing is with each other--no one is going to say anything about Steve massaging his shoulders. And it had felt so good, too.

"Chicken needs turning," Steve says, moving off toward the grill and leaving Danny standing there with a beer in his hand and a definite ache between his shoulder blades. And in his dick, Jesus.

"Danny!" Kono's smiling, bounding to him and giving him a hug, and he can't help but admire her as she's all but actually glowing. Tall and elegant and beautiful, she's wearing some sort of deep-green silk and lace top camisole thing; Steve is handing her the plate full of chicken all the while roving his own eyes over her in clear admiration--she does look stunning. Steve then looks at him, that deeply fixed stare, and a spike of heat drives straight through Danny's groin. It's all he can do not to groan out loud, knowing what he does.

Kono's setting the chicken down on the table. "What've you been doing that took you so long to get here, anyway?"

"Errand," he offers, picking up another chip and examining it thoroughly before putting it in his mouth. "You have a big date? You--you're looking all…" He hand waves while Chin gives him the eye.

She's smiling, grinning back at Chin, Steve and then him. "Thanks, I think. One of my cousin's band's playing, we're all going after we eat." She indicates the small crowd of people already attacking the food on the table. "You guys should come, too!"

"Only if they pass out ear plugs," Chin adds. "They're pretty awful--"

"Cuz. That's our cousin’s band you're maligning."

"No, just their choice in playing horrible music."

"Hey," Danny says, pointing to Steve, "That's what you listen to—horrible music. Bet you’d like it a lot." He slides into the chair next to Steve, listening to Kono and Chin verbally duke it out about musical taste or lack thereof, and watches with no small amazement as the group of Kono's friends and family scarf down food like a pack of starved hyenas. It's okay, though, as Danny's not feeling all that hungry and is just sort of picking at his own dinner.

"Everything okay?" Steve's asking which sets off some twitching of nerves.

"Perfect," he replies, and yeah, he's feeling okay. Nervous and antsy and twitchy, too, not that he's mentioning any of those issues. He's slammed down the better part of his second beer pretty quickly, ready for a third, and notices Steve still watching him.

"You're okay. You're sure?"

"What?" Bad enough to be tense over what's going to happen; he doesn't need Steve poking and prodding at him like he already knows something is up.

"I don't know, Danny, you tell me. You seem a bit edgy or something." Steve's sort of studying him now. "You don't usually pound down the beers unless--"

"Nothing is wrong. Stop. I'm just," a hand wave of distraction, "a little keyed up." He pops the cap of his third beer. "’S'all good, babe." He knows he ought to eat something to help absorb the alcohol.

They sit for a while longer, relaxing. Or trying to. Danny can’t help but shift in his seat from time to time. When finally Chin announces, "Okay, I’m beat. I'm heading out,” Danny couldn't be more grateful. While a part of him is antsy to get things going, he's also now wondering if this may be is a huge mistake, his wanting to surprise Steve with this particular little thing. He's definitely feeling a whole lot less confident than he did when he initially made the purchase, and he wasn’t feeling all that confident then.

"We're off, too," Kono adds and again Danny is taken by how lovely she looks. Steve, too, apparently, as he's running a hand down her back, almost stroking her silk top while they share a short hug.

So, they and all their cousins head out. Leave. Leaving him and Steve alone. Together. And as they say the last of goodbyes and Chin's motorcycle rides out of earshot, it doesn't take much for Danny's focus to shift back to what's going on in his pants. As sensitive as his skin absolutely is now, every movement is not only noticeable, it's making him almost itchy and it's all he can do to resist rubbing over the area as he helps gather up the dishes and trash.

Of course Steve notices.

They've finished up outside and Danny's wiping down the kitchen counters, catching Steve watching him.

"What've you got goin' on, Danny?"

"What?" Nonchalant is not cutting it, clearly. He can hardly keep from grinning, and already knows the blush that's heating his face is noticeable if not outright beaming. Steve misses nothing. 

Okay, Danny thinks. This is it. This is the big 'it's the little things' reveal, and Steve had better fucking appreciate it given the personal suffering of the last couple hours. "I--I kinda did something."

Steve's now staring at him intently, that definitely got his attention, and he's taking a step closer while Danny finds himself taking a step back and really, if anyone were watching it would look very much like a cat and mouse game with the cheese being the prize in Danny's pants.

Not that Steve quite knows this yet.

It's not that he wants to run away, it's that there's a small niggling doubt--and okay, maybe not so small-- and what the hell if this backfires into all kinds of ugly? 

Worse, and now his mind is conjuring up every thing that could be wrong or feel wrong or look wrong about what he did—

What if Steve laughs?

He's screaming inside--and he's never been a man to doubt his own confidence. Then again, he's never done this sort of thing before, either. So okay, maybe--maybe this is a mistake, and he should just walk away. Or run. Run away now before the humiliation hits.

"I just--" What? What's he going to say to Steve? There's no getting around this, not now that he's said something. Not unless he begs off and leaves, but by the look on Steve’s face, no way he’s getting a foot out the door.

"You just--what?" Steve's advancing again, another step closer. Another  
step toward what may turn out to be a very huge mistake, and the man's tone is that determined one that Danny knows won't let this go until he has answers.  
" _What_ are you just, Danny?"

Danny sighs, rolls his eyes heavenward, puts a hand up like a stop sign and just--unzips. Because there is no other way to do this.

Steve's jaw drops, his eyes staring at the slightly parted gap now in Danny's pants.  
Not enough to really see, but enough to figure out there's something not at all of the same routine going on in there.

"Holy mother of--" Steve looks at him then. Looks at his pants, looks back at him. Catches his eyes and he's licking his lips. Hell, the man is practically drooling. "What exactly did you do?"

Danny zips back up, his hand locked in place as Steve then rushes him, large hands wrapping his wrists almost painfully.

"Wait--I want--Oh, god, Danny, I need to see what--"

"Ratchet it on down there a notch, caveman." Danny now rebuttons his pants and takes a deep breath. "If we're going to have show and tell, this needs to go upstairs. To the bedroom. Where we can continue in a civilized manner."

Steve's grinning now, practically jumping up and down as he's all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Okay. Got it. Bedroom. Let's go." He's waving an arm toward the stairs. "After you."

Which Danny should have known was more than a chivalrous move as the second he passes him, Steve plunges a quick hand down the back of his pants, and just stops them both dead.

Danny rocks back and Steve’s sharp, "Oh my god, Danny--" is in his ears, and then there's this weird gasp, like a sharp inhale-exhale combo thing and if Steve had been eating anything when he did that, Danny's sure he would be engaging in the Heimlich maneuver about now.

As it is, he pulls Steve's hand out from where it’s deep down inside the back of his pants, palm splayed wide across his ass and turns his back to the wall, hands up in a placating move. "Can you let me get up the stairs, please? Is that so much to ask?"

"But--"

"No. I've waited through dinner and dessert, through all these people finally leaving until we have some privacy, and I want to do this my way. You understand there, chief?"

"Commander."

"Seriously?"

"Danny." And okay the whining gets to him and they start their way up the stairs, Danny making Steve go ahead of him because while he feels he's doing his best in projecting an air of sanity, calm and collectiveness, he's inwardly unspooling rapidly. His stomach is a mighty churning sea.

Steve's already sans shirt when they hit the room, which is no surprise whatsoever to Danny because when does the man ever hesitate to disrobe. Steve sits on the bed. Gets up, sits again. Rises--

"Sit, Steve." He holds a hand up. "Stay."

"Okay, you know—thanks. You're aware I'm not a dog here."

"Just settle down. Can you manage that? Just hold on a sec--" Danny moves his hands back to his zipper, and now that he has Steve's full attention, he feels like an idiot. Hates this unfamiliar feeling of insecurity, half dreading and half excited about it, but having Steve's eyes glued to him this way is killing him. This may be so much more than he'd anticipated.

Steve's eyebrows are raised, but he’s thankfully quiet even when he spins a hand forward, clearly indicating he wants Danny to get a move on--

And okay, Danny needs to slow this down. For his own sanity. "You know what? Close your eyes."

"What? No--" 

"Please? I'm asking please here, just--do it." It’s as if Steve thought he was asking him to hand over all his weapons and come along peacefully what with the look of total affront that's on his face.

But Steve does close his eyes, which buys Danny a few seconds of strength gathering time because his bravado and courage in all of this--what the hell was he thinking doing this--has totally left the building.

If Steve laughs at him, he's going to kill him.

"What are you doing, Danny?"

"Are your eyes closed? Do I have to blindfold you to make sure?"

"Closed. Yes, they're closed…what's taking so long--"

"Patience is not one of your strong suits, anyone ever tell you that? How you ever actually completed those secret ops is beyond me." 

"Jesus, Danny--"

The whining, good god. "Hang on--just a--" He's removed his shoes and socks, unbuttoned his shirt but left it on, somehow thinking having it as some measure of cover will allow him to feel a little less ridiculous.

He's just stepping out of his khakis, shoving them down and kicking them to the side when a strangled noise sounds and then there are hands shoving him hard and his back slams into the wall.

"Closed!" He squeaks--oh Lord, he squeaked, that was all him-- "I said eyes closed!"

"Too late--oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod--"

"Breathe, Steven."

"What did you do? What--let me--" Steve's pulling at him, yanking him away from the wall with a vice-like grip around his wrists, and Steve’s then using his feet to kick away the khakis still pooled around Danny's feet.

"Ease up there, fly-boy," Danny says somewhat in protest as his stomach is wholly rolling and there's no hiding anywhere now. He's trying to get his balance back.

"God, Danny—what is--I have to--"

Steve throws him back against the wall, pushes his hands up high up by his head and presses them against the wall. Steve’s face is in his now. "Danny. Do not move. Please."

Which, of course he knew was going to happen. That Steve would want to look. And touch. That was the point of all of this.

It's hard, though, just staying still, hands up in the most vulnerable position and body totally on display for all--for Steve--to ogle.

And look he does. Steve's eyes are huge, and the expression on his face isn't one of laughter, it's--it's something Danny hasn't really classified yet. He doesn’t really know this look.

"Steve--"

"No, shush." A quick flick of eyes to Danny's then Steve's back to roving so obviously, gaze slowly raking up and down Danny's body.

The weird thing is, Danny can catch a part of his own reflection in the mirror. It's an odd sight, even to him. In a way, he doesn't want to watch yet can't look away.

The panties are a match in blue to his eyes, he knew Steve would like that. When he realized Steve clearly had a thing for shiny, silky, lace-edged material--witness tonight, even, with Steve being all handsy with Kono's lace camisole--he couldn't seem to let this idea go.

Not that he’s ever had a penchant for this, no. He’s never considered it, really—well, except that one time Rachel and he had come home from a New Year’s party feeling pretty tipsy; he did it as a joke. She’d been less than amused and had bitched to him all the next day about stretching out her good things.

Now, he's standing there wearing a not-as-roomy-as-they-were-earlier pair of women's silk panties, lace ruffle trimming the top, and a lacy panel running straight down the crotch. That's the part that has been bothering him all night, the part that the now more sensitive skin areas have been reacting to all night as well. God, the constant rubbing.

"You--you're wearing--" Steve is stammering. Swallowing. And pointing. "Shaved?" 

Okay, now Danny's truly dying inside. When he first tried the panties on, he about bust a gut at just how freakishly ridiculous he looked. Seriously, he's a hairy guy. The beauty of these lacy underthings was pretty well lost with his hair sticking out all over--never mind Steve might laugh, he couldn’t stop himself.

So, he did. He shaved. Bit the bullet, swallowed a bit of pride and got out the shaving cream. There'd been a few scary moments, too. That blade was sharp.

"Okay, Steve--"

"No, wait. Just--gimme a minute more--" Again, he catches Danny's eyes for a quick second. "I gotta--oh, god--" Steve's moved in and pushed the shirt from Danny's shoulders, it dropping to the floor and okay--

"Steve, I can't just--" He can't just stand there on display any more, is feeling all kinds of stupid wearing only a pair of women's panties and no hair and okay, this is for Steve, and Steve is definitely liking it, but--

Steve stares at him a long beat, then moves in a second later and thrusts his tongue into his mouth, pulling back slowly, sucking hard. It's all Danny can do not to squeak again, and then Steve's mouth is back on his, they're sucking and nipping and god, he can barely catch a breath. Then Steve's hands are running up his chest, along his arms, intertwining their fingers and Steve's pushing his hands back up against the wall.

"Keep them there, no hands, okay?" Steve asks. "Not yet. Okay, Danny? Just a few minutes more--I gotta just, let me touch--"

And he does. Touch. Rubs fingers and palms over the silk and lace, around and down, slowly caressing, then over Danny's newly shorn skin. Looks up and their gazes meet again before Danny finds himself abruptly spun around, cheek now pressing into the wall. 

"Do not move," Steve instructs him, his words sending heat to Danny's groin. He senses Steve moving away, hears some noises somewhere in the room, then Steve is back.

Hands are squeezing his silk-covered ass with determination, cupping and stroking, a finger riding up and down his material-covered ass crease, and when Steve suddenly pulls up hard on the fabric and it twists, cutting into Danny's ass like a thong, trapping his balls tightly, the near-electric shot that travels through his dick has him gasping.

Steve blankets him against the wall, hands still roaming from front to back. Along the silk, tracing the lace, the man’s words right in his ear. "God, this is unbelievable. Did you know I have a thing for--"

Danny's nodding. "Hell, yes, you idiot. You think I did this for me?" Then stilling as he feels, truly feels Steve's hands on his skin. Something's different, not quite--

Oh, god--the gloves. "Steve, wait--what?"

But Steve's not listening to him, "Danny, god-- next time, a thong, okay? Love to see you in a lacy thong--"

Which, just-- "Can we just get through the here and now, and worry about the next time later. I'm having a hard enough time trying not to be totally mortified by this."

"Mortified? Oh, no, no--you look amazing. I love this, love that you did this for me. Just for me. All for me."

"Are you biting me?" Because he is, Steve is. Biting his neck and shoulder, all the while those gloved hands are still there, moving in and out of his panties. Leather against his skin. He can feel Steve's erection against his back, his own half-trapped in the panties and aching to be touched. "You're wearing those gloves," he chokes out, his breath catching as Steve rubs a leather-clad hand around his body, over his groin and up his chest. Wraps his throat, then up over his mouth. Stroking his lips.

"You like them, the gloves. Don't you, Danny? I think you do."

Jesus Christ, he can’t take this. "Bed, Steven. You remember the bed? It's right there--think we can move this to the bed? I think now is a good time for the bed." Because he’s about to collapse, his knees are about to give out in just another second.

Then Steve manhandles him the few feet to the mattress, gloved hands still attached to that blue silk, tongue doing its best to fill his mouth, and Danny falls onto the mattress with 190 pounds of 6ft SEAL topping him after--in more ways than one. 

He knew the panties would get him a reaction. Had no idea the gloves would make an appearance.

Steve's above him, hands and knees over him and then pushing himself upright. Traces a gloved finger down Danny's face, stopping at his mouth and Danny opens up, lets that leather inside as he sucks on it.

"What you do to me," Steve tells him, bending down and again filling Danny's mouth with his tongue. He holds up his other hand, the glove with the finger cut out. "And oh, what I will do to you."

Danny writhes on the bed. "Hell, yes." Just the scent of the leather has him aching.

"First, though, I gotta get a good look at what you did." Steve grins, reaching, stretching the panties down to the upper part of Danny's thighs and Danny's pretty sure this pair is a one shot deal; they're going to be ruined.

He's mostly exposed now, and watching Steve take it all in. It is quite a sight, he knows. It's a weird contrast, his considerable hard-on jutting out from pretty much completely bared skin.

He is totally unprepared for Steve to sink down and lick him slowly, tongue dragging across his newly shorn skin.

"Ahh," he cries, hips thrusting hard. Feels his balls draw up and god, he's going to come from just that—from Steve just licking him and then Steve's blowing lightly over where he just licked, and Danny just about explodes from the sensation.

A leather-clad hand pushes his hips down, pulls at his balls. "No, Danny, not yet." And he can't help the long moan rising out of him, body arching when Steve latches his mouth onto the skin next to the base of his dick, just there between his dick and thigh, tongue and teeth working over the tender flesh there and Danny doesn’t care that it's going to leave a bruise. Leather strokes him, his over-sensitized skin shivering as the smooth fabric slides tenderly around his genitals, tickling over his inner thighs.

He can't get any harder, he can't. He aches from it. "Steve, please, please--" and he will never admit later that he was begging but Jesus--

"Yeah, okay, just wait--" Steve's saying, gloved hands again working up, down and around his hard on, fingers knowing where and how much and Danny grinds his head back into the pillow, moaning, hips thrusting, eyes squeezed shut and he had no idea the kind of extra sensation he'd be feeling after his shave. No idea Steve truly knew about the leather. It's too much, almost too much--

"Steve," he moans, low and guttural and he's so close, so close--

"I gotcha--jeeze, baby, you have no idea what this is--shit," Steve's softly saying, words tumbling out and over each other and they stop then, when Steve's mouth covers his dick and he feels lips suck up and around him.

Never will he admit that he made that sound, but goddamn, he's coming so hard, waves of icy pleasure rolling through him, heat bursting from him--

"Danny, Danny."

He cracks an eye open, still reeling, floating, and Steve is right there in his face, pushing him to roll over onto his belly and whispering, "Let me fuck you. I have to fuck you. I want in deep." Lips brush his ear and Steve lowers himself down as he pulls Danny up onto his knees, face pressed into the pillow. "Yes," Danny murmurs, "yes."

Steve's got a hand on the panties, pulling them tightly up his ass, twisting them to the side, rubbing his dick on them, Danny realizes, until Steve's twisted them hard enough they start to rip. 

When exactly Steve got the lube in his hand, Danny has no idea, but he's then slowly slipping a slick finger--the finger of the cut out glove--into him, lightly teasing at his entrance before pushing into him. It swirls slowly, Danny gasps softly at the welcome intrusion and he reaches a hand out to brace against the headboard. His other hand moves around to feel the leather-gloved hand that’s spread tight over his ass.

There's another sound of ripping fabric, the panties then tearing free and then the finger disappears, pulling out entirely. Danny pushes up to his knees, settling his weight there and turning to protest when Steve suddenly yanks at his arms, crossing them behind his back and wrapping and knotting that silk tightly around his wrists. His spent cock responds with a sudden unexpected twitch. “Oh,” he starts.

"Okay, Danny?"

He nods. Okay, this just took a turn he wasn’t expecting. "I--yeah, okay. It’s good. I’m good. All good, Steven. Be a whole lot better if you'd get that finger back to working."

He can feel Steve smile into his back, feel the kisses that whisper along his spine as Steve presses him back down, then feels every inch of each finger Steve slowly pushes into him, leather glove and all. Fingers that work slowly, twisting, working, filling him, feeling him--

Steve's other hand finds one of his nipples, the leather stroking it, rubbing, teasing--he cries out at the hard pinch, groaning, his own hands twisting against the silk binding them. 

Then Steve's inside him. Pressing, pushing in and Danny stills against him for a few seconds, head down on the mattress, panting, body clenching involuntarily and hears Steve's quiet, "Relax, Danny, let me in," and he does then. Relaxes, feels Steve go deeper, filling him, loving him.

Steve pulls him backward, gloved hands first tracing along the silk bindings, then moving to brace around Danny's hips and holding him, pulling, pushing, working him.

Reaching around, one hand finds Danny's mouth, Steve's leather gloved hand covering it, and Danny's breathing hard anyway now, and can't help but inhale all the leather. Lets Steve again shove a leather-covered finger into his mouth, his thumb, and he sucks on it as it fills his mouth and oh, dear lord, what this is doing to him.

"God, Danny--" Steve groans in his ear, grip tightening as he's moved both hands back to Danny's hips, fingers sure to be creating deep grooves in the flesh there. He doesn't care, can't even feel them as Steve slams into him, over and over, harder and deeper until he just stops, everything stilling as Steve tenses, then finds his release and comes with a long moan.

He drops onto Danny's back, trapping him, still petting him softly with those leather gloves, and they stay locked that way for a few long beats. Danny can barely care, he's so spent. He shifts, Steven then slipping out and off of him.

Danny turns his head to watch his partner peel off the gloves, and then Steve has a t-shirt in his hands and is cleaning him up. Fingers then work to untie the panties wound around his wrists, and it's all he can do to keep his eyes open. "I can't—I didn’t even think--that was crazy--"

Steve's grinning, head on the pillow next to him, playing with the silk and lace ruin that’s still in his hands. He runs his tongue along the fabric as he lets it slip along his lips, and Danny can’t help when he lets loose a small laugh.

Steve grins in return. "Leather and lace. Who knew?"

Danny smiles. “I knew. You. You knew."

"And you shaved. I mean--I never expected that, ever. It's--god. It's just so-"

Danny feels the hand now cupping his genitals, fingers tickling over the bared skin there, his stomach muscles bracing from the touch. "Okay, sleep now. Please? I'm glad you liked, but now, now it's time to sleep. My hair will sadly still be gone in the morning for you to paw at me."

Steve leans across the pillow for a deep kiss, hand wrapping around Danny's head before pulling back. The silk is still twined around his fingers. "Not sadly. Hot. It's hot. But yeah. Okay." He sighs as his head drops back to the pillow. "God, that was good."

"You wore me out, babe." Danny cuts off the light, the palest of moonlight illuminating just enough to bathe the room in soft blue. "I'm beat. 'night."

"Okay. Good night. And it was, Danny. A good night. Great night. God."

A light, slow tickle runs down his arm. "Okay, put the silk away now, Steve." He can see him rubbing his fingers along its length.

"In a minute." Silky fabric suddenly touches along his groin, playing across his dick.

Danny rises up a bit and grumbles, "No. Sleep."

"But Danny--"

“No.” He can tell Steve’s not done, though, and there's this heavy silence that's just so loud, and so he asks, even though he knows better, “Okay, what? What’s going on in that crazy head of yours?”

“Just thinking.”

It is much too soon to be considering anything; Danny hasn’t even recovered half way from this. Can't even imagine the hell of what the next week will be like to grow his hair back in down there. Wonders if it will itch. “Later, Steven. We’ll talk about it later. Much later. After coffee and breakfast and then maybe some time during the next month later.”

A hand traces softly over his arm. “You looked so amazing, you know.”

“Yeah," he mumbles into the pillow, "that’s me. Right off the pages of Victoria’s Secret.”

“Loved the lace.”

“Uh, yeah, babe. I kinda got that.”

“And the silk. That silk on your skin, god. It was so hot.”

He pats Steve on the chest, letting him know he’s listening but trying pretty hard to shut him out instead because he really is worn out. Jeeze, and they say _he_ was a talker.

“So…what else, Danny?”

Cracks one eye open. “What else…what?” 

The petting gets heavier, and Steve is rolling to face him. His eyes look impossibly round and dark in the faint light. “What else would you wear—garter belt, maybe? Would you wear stockings and a garter belt for me? Oh, god—with a thong?”

It takes a second to really register, then he’s half sitting up. “What? No—I’m not-- Jesus, Steve! You do know I’m not a girl, right? What the hell?“

Hands trace over his chest, Steve is shushing him and pulling him back down. “Hey, calm down. It’s just a thought. Trust me, I've noticed you’re not a girl. I just—you know, I have some—Really, it’s just an idea. A thought, that's all. We can talk about it later, okay?”

Danny grunts. “Much later.” Then watches Steve play with the silk again.

“Still, Danny—could be so amazing. You wearing this lacy, hot--“

"Let it go, Steven." He watches as Steve reluctantly drops the silk over the side of the bed, settling himself down.

“Okay. Okay. Not a big deal. It’s just a thing, that’s all. Just a little thing.”

And yeah, Danny thinks. He knows all about the little things, and so, still watching Steve and suddenly conjuring up an image of himself in a thong and Steve’s reaction, softly asks, "So, what. Like, black silk?"

Steve's eyes latch to his, and they stare at one another for a measured beat before Steve breaks into a wide, lopsided grin.

"You kinky fucker," Danny whispers fondly, grinning as well and reaching out a hand to grasp Steve's.

"Know it and love it, leather boy," Steve whispers back, fingers intertwining and stretching onto his back as he closes his eyes with a deep sigh.

Danny looks at him a long minute, then pulls Steve close to him, arm stretching to wrap across the man’s taut abdomen. "I do, Steve. I really do."

End.


End file.
